


Like We Always Do (Dean x reader)

by revengingbarnes



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Amnesia, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Temporary Amnesia, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:41:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25162576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/revengingbarnes/pseuds/revengingbarnes
Summary: You wake up in the middle of nowhere, with no memory and just a phone on your person. The phone keeps ringing incessantly, with just one name on the screen. A name you don’t recognize. Dean.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Original Female Character(s), Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean Winchester/You
Comments: 3
Kudos: 63





	Like We Always Do (Dean x reader)

You woke up with a start.

Your heart was beating a mile a minute, breaths coming heavy and fast. Your eyes shot open, body covered in a layer of sweat under your black jacket. Your head whipped around trying to gather where you were.

The first thing you noticed was that you were sitting up and not laying down. In front of you was a steering wheel, beneath you, a car seat. The leather covering the seat squeaked as you moved. Your eyes drifted up, looking out the windshield. You seemed to have been parked on the side of a dark road, the sky above showcasing twinkling stars.

You had no idea where you were, or how you got there.

Your eyebrows furrowed still deeper, body going rigid as you tried to recall something, anything, and realizing you couldn’t remember anything at all. Mild panic started to set in, and your already erratic heart wasn’t helping. You clenched your hands into fists, stilling yourself and trying to take deep breaths. Okay, there had to be a logical explanation for all this. Maybe you had drunk too much last night.

_Can alcohol make you forget your own name? If yes, where’s your morning after hangover?_

You knew that whatever was going on, it wasn’t alcohol induced. You had a deep feeling, almost like an ache in your gut. Something was very wrong.

You yelped out loud when a noise interrupted the silence inside the car. You shuffled around to try and locate the tune, realizing it was coming from your jacket pocket, digging your hand deep inside it to pull out a phone. You stared at the screen, a simple name displayed on it.

**_Dean_ **

You remained still until the phone stopped ringing before you tried opening the phone. You tried several combinations, none of which worked. Frustrated, you settled on staring at the picture on the lockscreen. It took you several moments to realize that it was you.

Your eyes drifted to the man next to you, taking in his features. He was much taller than yourself in the picture, all sharp angles and built muscles. He was wearing a blue jacket on top of what looked like three other shirts, a huge grin splitting his face, with an arm thrown around your shoulder, the other was buried in his jeans pocket. Both of you were smiling at whoever was behind the camera.

You didn’t have a clue about who the man was, and that scared the crap out of you.

You looked at the picture again, noticing how comfortable you look. Relaxed. Happy. None of what you were feeling right now. Your eyes moved to the background, trying to pick out anything that might give you a clue about where you were, or in fact, _who_ you were.

You and the man were leaning against the bumper of a shiny black car, which, no surprise, you didn’t recognize. You shut the phone and looked around the car, eyeing the keys in the ignition. You worried your lower lip between your teeth. It was obvious that you had drove yourself here, wherever here was. You looked outside again, realizing you had been sitting there a good ten minutes and no car had driven past. Looking at the watch strapped to your wrist, your eyebrows shot up when you saw that it was almost 2am.

It was then that you noticed the burning ache on your side. Groaning, you tore off your jacket, goosebumps settling over your bare arms. Lifting up the hem of your shirt, you gasped at the big purple bruise blooming on your side. Suddenly, you were hyper aware of your body, noticing the other ailments you had. The stinging on your cheek proved to be a small cut, and one side of your jaw showed a swelling. Did you get into a fight?

The phone started ringing again, the same name on the screen. Dean.

You contemplated whether you should answer or not. You didn’t really have a lot of other choices. You couldn’t unlock the phone, so no use trying to get information from there. And you didn’t know where the hell you were. In a flash, your finger swiped on the screen and the phone was placed to your ear.

“Y/N? Hey, don’t hang up, okay? This is childish. Let’s just talk this out. Jesus, I sound like Sam.”

The line was silent after that, and you sputtered to answer, stunned.

“Um…” Your throat tightened. That voice. Rough, almost scratchy, but a tone so soft, it shook you to your core. Your heart was starting to beat harder again, and your grip on the phone tightened.

“Y/N?” The voice spoke again, this time tinged in worry. There was shuffling. “Y/N/N, are you okay? What’s going on?”

You shifted again, mind racing. You didn’t know who the hell he was, where the hell you were, not even _who_ you were. You were roughed up, hurting, in an unknown car, on an unknown road in the middle of nowhere. You were on a phone with an unknown man who was talking like he had known you all your life. The panic was starting to set in again, and with it, a wave of tears.

“Y/N!” The voice was louder, making you snap out of your train of thought. “Where are you?”

“I- I don’t know.” You managed to choke out. “I don’t-” Your breath caught, and you heard voices at the other end of the line, then more shuffling.

“Okay. Hey, it’s okay. Stay where you are. We’re coming.” More shuffling. Footsteps. “Y/N, you hear me?”

“Uh, yeah.” You breathed out.

“Are you hurt?”

“I- yeah. But not too bad.” You shifted. “I’m- I’m in the car.”

There was a grunt. “Okay, stay there. Keep your gun close. We’ll track your phone, okay? We’re coming.”

You only clenched your teeth and let the phone slip from your hand before breathing in deep. Your _gun_?

You hadn’t seen it before. It was probably because the dark disguised where it sat on the seat next to you. Your hand shook as you picked it up, it’s weight heavy. What the fuck were you doing with a _gun_?

You sighed and shut your eyes, shifting to fold your feet under you. You didn’t want to think any longer. A headache was starting to set in, and you had too many questions but not enough answers. You would just have to trust that the man on the phone was on his way. He was your only hope right now to figure out what the hell was going on.

……………..

15 hours.

It had taken 15 hours before a car finally stopped near you on the road. For most of that time, you had slept, hoping to wake up and for all this to be a terrible nightmare. You were wrong of course, and you still had no memory when you came to. There was a duffel bag on the backseat of the car, army green in color and extremely roughed up. You nearly started screaming when you saw that it was full of an assortment of weapons; knifes, guns, boxes of bullets, and thankfully, a bottle of water. You quickly gulped it down, not finding anything to relieve your hunger. But it wasn’t unbearable, so you ignored it.

It was nearing sundown the next day when a car came to a slow stop behind yours. You recognized it immediately as the shiny black car on your phone screen. You were positive you would know that car anywhere, considering how much time you’d spent looking at the picture. You also recognized the man that came out from the driver’s side.

You hadn’t even dared to step out of your car, not until then, so when you did, you felt all your joints pop as they straightened, the pain making you flinch. You couldn’t stand up properly thanks to the bruise on your side, so you leaned against your car as you turned to look at the two men emerging from the car behind you. Your eyes were trained on the man that was now approaching you, his own eyes fixed solely on you. The other guy was taller and with longer hair, looking around everywhere as if expecting someone to jump out at them.

The man didn’t slow down as he neared you, instead he walked right up, arms wrapping around you tightly as he _hugged_ you.

You felt yourself stiffen, arms hanging limply by your sides. After a split second, he broke away, eyes wandering over you as if to make sure you were okay. He noticed your crooked posture, and your eyes widened as he lifted up your shirt with no inhibition, almost like he’d done it a million times before.

“How bad does it hurt?”

Still shocked, you sputtered out an answer. “Not a lot.”

Finally, a little bit of the worry in his eyes dissipated.

“You’re okay.” He breathed out. This had to be Dean. He had the same voice. You stared at him, almost drowning in the apple green of his eyes. Again, your heartbeat rose. This was familiar, it felt safe. But to your immense frustration, you couldn’t tell why. He ran a hand through his short, spiky hair, looking around as the taller man approached you.

“You okay?” He asked, and your eyes immediately caught the glint of the knife in his hand in the dimming sunlight. You went rigid again.

“Uh….” You looked up to see them both looking at you now, strange looks on their faces.

“Y/N, are you okay?”

Y/N. Dean had called you that on the phone too. Multiple times. Maybe that was your name. Y/N. It sure seemed to fit you.

“I don’t-” You took a breath. “I don’t remember.”

They stared at you again, still confused. “Remember what?” They spoke in unison. You would bet money on your guess that they were brothers.

“Anything.” You replied. “I don’t remember anything.”

Dean nodded slowly. “Okay, no problem. We’ll fill you in on our way back. Did you drink?” He reached for your hand but you flinched away, immediately making him freeze.

“You don’t understand.” You muttered with gritted teeth, voice trembling. “I don’t remember _anything_. Not a thing. I don’t know who I am. Who you are. I woke up with no memory. And I’ve been trying for hours, but I can’t recall anything.”

There was a heavy, shocked silence that followed your words as you watched all color drain from Dean’s face. The other guy was staring at you like you’d grown two heads, mouth opening and closing a few times.

“What-” Dean’s voice seemed to catch. “Y/N, this isn’t funny.”

You scowled at him. “Do I look like I’m kidding?”

That seemed to do it. Dean’s face crumpled at your words, shaking his head as a hand ran over his face. He turned away while the taller guy slowly tucked the knife into his pocket.

“Let’s get you out of here.” He mumbled. “We’ll figure this out. We always do.”

_We always do._ You didn’t have time to think about what that meant before he was gesturing you to go to the black car while he proceeded to get your stuff from your own car. You didn’t question him. It was obvious that these people knew you, and even if you didn’t remember, you knew them too.

The drive to god-knows-where was silent and heavy, all the more unbearably so as Dean drove. He was stiff as a board, and you didn’t need to know him to see that he was angry. Was he angry at you?

You fiddled with your phone before hesitantly leaning forward in your seat towards the other man.

“Could you open this for me?” You asked, holding the phone out. “I don’t remember the passcode.”

The man stared at the phone a bit, eyes flickering to Dean.

“It’s 6022.” Dean muttered, voice low, and you could hear the waver in it, the underlying anger. The hurt.

You silently sat back again, putting in the passcode and watching the phone come to life. The first thing you saw was the shit ton of texts you’d gotten. Most of which were from Dean.

All the texts were some variation of ‘I’m sorry’, ‘please come back’ or ‘don’t do anything stupid’, going back about a week. Your eyes stilled at a few ‘I love you’s scattered through the myriad of texts. None of them you had replied to, all of them from one person.

You watched the back of Dean’s head, watched him keep still as the other man, whose name you still didn’t know, made some calls to some dude named ‘Cas’. Again, an unfamiliar name.

Your head was starting to hurt again.

You turned back to your phone, clicking on the gallery. Hundreds of pictures filled your camera roll, and you started at the very latest one.

It was a selfie of you, in a car very similar to the one you were in now. You moved further back, finding a picture of yourself and Dean, with him standing behind you, arms around your shoulders and head atop yours.

Photo after photo was you and Dean. Selfies, funny faces, holding up peace signs, many of them taken by someone else. You and Dean eating together, hugging each other, laughing, sleeping, cuddling.

Kissing.

You locked your phone, pushing it away. Your heart was beating fast again, and you couldn’t look at these pictures any longer. It was like looking at two strangers, despite knowing that all this had happened and you had lived it. It was too much.

“Are you alright?” The guy in the passenger seat asked, watching you worriedly.

You nodded slowly. “I’m sorry, what’s your name?”

A heavy silence followed your question and you regretted asking it when he finally replied quietly. “Sam.”

You took a breath. “Sam, I’m sorry. I am, really. I have no idea what’s going on but I don’t remember shit and my head hurts so _bad_ -”

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s not your fault. Whatever happened, we’ll figure it out. We’ll retrace your steps. It’s going to be okay.”

You nodded slowly, feeling yourself calm slightly. Sam was much softer than Dean, who seemed rougher round the edges. He seemed confident in his ability to find out, so you let yourself trust him.

The car ride was long but not nearly as stifling as before. Sam asked you as many questions about remembering as he could, none of which you could answer. When he saw you getting frustrated again, he changed tactics, and started talking about everything himself. He gave you a kind of a brief overview of your life, starting with the fact that monsters were real.

You’d barely digested that fact when he told you your dad had been killed by demons and left your ten year old self to live with John Winchester and his kids. It had been a life on the road since then, the life of a hunter. You were apparently very good at your job, and that’s why it had shocked them that something had gotten the upper hand over you and left you on the side of the road with a severe case of amnesia. That was their working theory, that some monster had attacked you for whatever reason.

Never once did Sam mention your less-than-platonic relationship with his brother. You noted that you’d have to ask him later. You couldn’t do it now, not with Dean in the car and looking positively murderous. You didn’t know why he was so angry. But Sam seemed to understand, so he kept his mouth shut. Considering the way he spoke to you and about your life together, you trusted him enough to follow his lead and stay silent as well.

Your ‘home’ turned out to be what looked like an old power plant, and it was only when you stepped inside that you saw it was nothing like that. It was some sort of underground base, with what Sam referred to as a ‘war room’ and a library. Sam asked if you were hungry, which you answered with an affirmative, and he led you to a kitchen that was homier than you had expected. He was quick to make you a simple sandwich that you devoured. Dean had disappeared as soon as you had gotten back.

You wished you could talk to him as easily as you could talk to Sam. When you voiced this thought, Sam smiled sadly.

“A week ago, you could.” He sighed. “You and Dean….. you’re inseparable. Or were.” He shrugged. “If there was one person in the universe who could get through to him. It was you.”

“What happened?” You asked.

“You two got into a fight.” Sam gave you a sheepish look. “I don’t know what about. All I know is that it was stupid, and you left. And Dean’s been regretting it since.”

“I was gone for a week?” You bit your lip. “Where did I go?”

Sam stood up then, giving you a reassuring smile. “That’s what we have to figure out. See exactly where you went so we can find the bastard who did this to you.”

………

The next few days were probably the worst of your life. As time passed by and you didn’t remember anything, the boys slowly realized just how bad the situation was. Cas, an angel that was apparently your friend, was MIA, so they couldn’t ask him for help, and no matter what they did, they couldn’t pinpoint what exactly had happened. There were millions of memory spells, like the one Dean was on once, so they couldn’t do a reversal spell. They also had no idea who the witch casting the spell was, so they couldn’t gank her.

Then there was the possibility that it might have been an angel screwing with your memory, and that it might not be a witch at all. All in all, things were looking bleak.

A mild panic was starting to descend slowly and settle in your bones. You could see, as days went by, the worry in Sam’s and the anger in Dean’s eyes increased. Sam’s search for answers got more frantic, as did yours. You’d spend hours on end trying to piece together who you were, even resorting to digging up old FBI arrest reports for you and the boys, reading the Supernatural books by Carver Edlund, and rifling through diaries filled with your own thoughts and emotions over the years. Anything that could trigger your brain. But there were no flashbacks, no echoes, no visions or dreams. You had nothing.

There were, however, moments when something would stir deep inside you, like an itch in your brain. And all those moments happened around Dean. Your heartbeat would rise when he’d walk into the kitchen or library, breath would hitch when his eyes would meet yours. He was withdrawn, stiff and reserved, the exact opposite of how you had gathered he used to be. You knew it had to do with your amnesia. You couldn’t imagine how you would feel if the love of your life looked at you like you were a stranger. You couldn’t blame him for being so cold towards you.

Still, it didn’t stop you from wanting to be close to him. He was the one thing that felt remotely familiar to you. You had voiced the feeling before Sam, giving him hope that he desperately grasped onto. The last cry of a dying man, you thought.

And then something happened. You found the ring.

You were going through your closet, finding everything you owned interesting at this point. Of course, you and Dean shared the same closet, same as you shared the same room. He hadn’t been in the room since you came back, but all his stuff was still there. As you rifled through a purse that hung among your clothes, you heard a phone ring.

You frowned, following the noise the best that you could. You ended up with your hand buried in a jacket that you guessed belonged to Dean. Your hand wrapped around something small and light, circular in shape. It wasn’t a phone, but it piqued your interest. You pulled it out, holding it in the light. Your heart nearly stopped when the diamond on the ring caught the glare, reflecting it into your eyes.

Your mind was racing, heart nearly beating out of your chest. You felt your chest squeeze as you took a deep breath. Pain that you hadn’t felt up until now was slowly blooming inside you as you turned and walked out of the room, spotting the person you were looking for in the library.

Dean was hunched over his laptop, eyes darting over whatever he was reading, hand absently reaching for a bottle of beer next to him. You watched him for a bit, feeling a wave of tears wash over you. You had gone through every nook and cranny of the Bunker for information about you and Dean. By now, you knew exactly how much you meant to him, and this ring proved everything you had gathered. You walked over to him, placing the ring on the table next to his laptop.

You had been underestimating the pain Dean was going through. But now, you could see it, all of it reflected in his eyes as the color drained from his face and he struggled to think of an explanation. All of what you had learned and could see was painting a clear picture. Star crossed lovers, pining for each other since childhood, dating since the moment you two knew what it meant. By each other’s side through the multiple times the world almost ended. And still going as strong as ever.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered. “I know how hard this is for you. How it feels to lose someone yet have them in front of you all the time. I wish it didn’t have to be this way.”

Silence.

“For what it’s worth,” you continued, staring down at your feet. “everything around me is strange. New. But if there’s one place where I feel like I belong, it’s when I’m with you.”

Dean was quiet for a few more seconds before he slowly picked up the ring and stood up, mouth opening and closing as he struggled for words.

“I bought this a few weeks ago at a jewelry store we were solving a case in.” He muttered. “All I could think about was how good it would look on your finger. I couldn’t stop thinking about it, so before we left town, I went back and bought it. I knew I wanted you to have it. This job, this life, it doesn’t leave much room for family. But if I ever do picture myself having one, it’s with you by my side.”

You took in a shaky breath, nodding slowly. Almost as if by instinct, you placed your hand on top of Dean’s as he held the ring between his fingers, watching him stiffen at the action before relaxing again. He gave you a sad smile, apple green eyes clouded with emotion.

“Come back to me, Y/N. Please.” His voice cracked slightly, before squeezing his eyes and sniffling, hand wrapping around your own. You felt your heart race at the gesture, thinking that maybe, being so close to Dean, something would come back, maybe a memory, or a flashback.

But you got nothing. And that’s when fear truly filled you. Acute and real, piercing your chest. You could see no way out of this, and that panicked you.

“It’s okay.” He whispered, seeing the look on your face. “I’m not going to lose you. No way. I’ll keep fighting, and I don’t care if I have to make you fall in love with me all over again. I’ll do it a thousand times over if I have to.”

He leaned forward, soft lips pressing to your forehead.

“We’ll make it through this.” He mumbled against your skin. “Like we always do.”

A smile twitched at your lips, eyes falling shut. “Like we always do.”

.....................................

Walking into the kitchen the next day, you stopped short at the sight of Dean at the counter, moving around. Accompanying him was the sound of something sizzling in the pan.

“You cook?” You blurted out.

He turned around at the sound, giving you a smile. “Morning.” He chirped, returning to whatever he was doing. “Of course I cook. And I’m fucking fantastic at it.”

After Dean’s little confession last night, you hadn’t slept at all. Instead, the two of you sat in the library as Dean narrated little stories and tidbits about your lives. You realized that you had gone through an extreme amount of bad luck, but you’d still had it good. You were Dean’s support system as he was yours, and you two had helped each other break every single rule. Hell, you, Dean and Sam were practically celebrities in the world of monsters by now.

You slowly walked over to him, peeking from behind his side to watch the omelet cooking in the pan.

“Smells great.” You mumbled, turning to Dean with squinted eyes. He was in an unusually good mood, and you couldn’t help but ask him about it.

“Aren’t you just a ray of sunshine today.” You moved back to sit on the table, resting your chin in your hand and watching him.

Dean shrugged before turning around with a plate containing his masterpiece. “I’d like to spoil my girlfriend. God knows I haven’t been doing it as much as I should.”

A smile broke on your face, heart fluttering at his words. He placed the plate in front of you before sitting down next to you.

“Go ahead.” He gestured to the table. “And don’t hide the way you feel about it.”

You laughed a bit, digging in. The flavor seemed to explode in your mouth, making you moan around it. You closed your eyes, relishing in the taste.

“Fuck me, this is fantastic.” You spoke around the bite, not caring about how it looked. Once you’d swallowed, you looked up at Dean. He was silent, elbow on the table and head leaning against his hand. He had a soft smile on his face, eyes glued to you.

“What?” You asked, taking another bite.

“That’s the exact same thing you said when I first made you this.” He whispered. You felt yourself smile at him. Getting up, you dug into a drawer to grab another fork, moving back and handing it to Dean.

“Eat with me.” You said, scooting your chair closer to him and placing the plate between you two on the table.

Dean didn’t question it. He didn’t say anything. And he didn’t tell you that this was exactly what you’d done the first time he’d made you an omelet. You’d shared it with him like you were doing now.

He didn’t stop smiling throughout breakfast.

…………

Two days later, Sam caught wind of a case in Indiana. You insisted they take you with them, while Dean absolutely refused.

“You don’t even remember how to shoot a gun.” He argued as he packed a bag. You sighed from where you leaned against the doorframe of his room- well, his temporary room. You were currently residing in your shared one.

“I have all my instincts intact.” You retorted. “Plus, I won’t hunt. I’ll just stay at the motel and help with the research. But I’m not staying alone in this huge Bunker. C'mon Dean, please.”

One look at the face you were pulling and Dean groaned, rolling his eyes.

“Fine.” He gritted out, making you grin. “But you don’t get in the line of fire. Got it?”

You nodded vigorously, following him out of the room and towards the garage. Sam was loading up the trunk of the Impala, giving you a smile as you moved closer to the car. You hadn’t been in it since that first time the boys drove you home, and your mind had been too preoccupied to actually admire how beautiful the car was. As you plopped yourself into the backseat, waiting for Sam and Dean to finish loading up, you smiled. This felt homey, comforting, like how Dean felt. You could already tell that you’d had many memories in this car. The Impala was basically your home before you found the Bunker.

Something was itching in your brain, feeling too much like the beginning of a headache. But instead of slowly getting worse, you felt a pang in your head, intense, like being impaled with something. Groaning, your eyes screwed shut, head leaning against the seat in front of you. You heard voices, laughter and background music featuring rock guitars. Lights swam before your eyes until they formed a discernible image.

You saw Sam and Dean in the seat before you. Through the windshield, you saw a diner. It was dark outside, the roads wet with rain. You watched as Dean told Sam what he wanted from the diner. Both of them looked much younger, and you barely recognized Sam without the long hair and no stubble. Dean looked younger, happier, and not as tired as now.

Sam turned to the backseat then, looking at you.

“Let me guess, cheese fries?” Involuntarily, you nodded.

Sam pushed the Impala’s door open, starting to walk towards the diner.

“Sam!” Dean called. Sam leaned down to eye level, looking through the window at Dean.

“Don’t forget the pie.” Dean said. You felt yourself laugh, Sam giving Dean a bitch face before walking away.

“Bring me some pie!” Dean called again before turning up the radio and settling back in his seat.

“Love me some pie.” He mumbled, turning back and winking at you. You snorted, shaking your head.

“Y/N!” You yelped, and the images cleared. You blinked at Dean, who was turned back in his seat. You were back at the garage, eyes darting to the other side to see Sam, looking back at you with a worried expression on his face.

It had been a memory.

The feeling lingered in you still, how cold it had been that night. Your mind still itched. It had been…. 2006? 2007? You couldn’t remember. But you had been 27, and it was…. Sam had died.

More images, like a film playing on a big screen, flitted past your eyes. Sam disappearing from the diner. Dean being worried sick. The roadhouse burned down, Andy putting images in Dean’s brain. The wild chase to find Sam. And Sam had died.

“I remember.” You gasped. You watched Dean’s face pale before it was replaced with a hope. He climbed out of the front seat only to join you in the back, making you look at him.

“What do you remember?” He asked, voice an octave higher. Sam looked at you in interest.

“The uh…” You took a breath. “The first time Sam died. The whole Azazel thing. But-” You struggled to think. “Nothing after that.”

Dean nodded slowly. “Okay. It’s okay. Take it easy.” He rubbed your arm softly.

“What triggered it?” Sam asked, eyes flitting over your face as if looking for clues.

“The Impala, I think.” You mumbled, rubbing your forehead. The headache was dissipating slowly, but it still hurt.

“Why- why would the car trigger you?” Dean asked, more to himself than you. “You’ve been around familiar things ever since you got back. Why get a piece of your memory back now?”

Sam was still thinking, a frown on his face.

“I have no idea.” He mumbled, shaking his head.

“We’ll figure it out.” You spoke up. “But right now, we have to go. We’re losing daylight.”

Dean nodded slowly, leaving you in the back seat to climb in the front. You leaned back and sighed, trying to sort through all you had remembered. It didn’t seem strange to you anymore, not like how it did when you read the Supernatural books. It seemed much more real, all the emotions that you’d felt then settling inside you.

It wasn’t a good memory, not by a long shot. But you were glad you had it back. It made breathing a little easier.

………….

The memories started coming back more and more.

Over the next two days, you had three more episodes like the ones before. Each memory a different one. With every flashback, the pain in your head got worse, until the newest one had you on the ground convulsing. It got so bad that you stayed in bed for the entirety of the day afterward. Both the boys were starting to worry. If this got even worse, who knew how far the damage would go?

Otherwise, the hunt was going as smooth as any hunt would go. Once the boys had figured out that they were dealing with a Skinwalker, it was easy enough tracking it down. Then, only ganking it remained.

You walked over to Dean where he leaned over the Impala, getting guns ready with silver bullets. He seemed entirely focused on his work as you leaned next to him, watching him with fascination. He seemed perfectly content with what he was doing, like he belonged there, which you had no doubt that he did.

You stiffened when the piercing pain returned, an all too familiar pain. Gasping, your hands flew to your head. You heard the muffled sound of Dean calling your name, but then your memory took over.

“What are you doing?” You were saying to a figure whose back was turned to you. He stiffened at the sound, turning to you. John Winchester looked you up and down before looking behind you to see that you were alone. He sighed and turned back to the spell he was working, ignoring your question.

In the distance, you could hear the voices above you in the hospital. You had followed John to the basement of sorts, a creaky place under the hospital. You had been suspicious of him the moment he gave Sam a list of ingredients to get to Bobby. He was trying to summon a demon, and that made your blood boil.

“Your son is on his deathbed, struggling to survive and you still can’t quit going after the yellow eyed demon?” You accused, crossing your arms and watching him work.

“I’m doing this for him.” He muttered, not looking at you. You rolled your eyes and shook your head.

“And pray tell, _how_ is this going to help Dean?”

John looked at you, eyes hard. “I’m making a deal, okay? Dean’s life in exchange for the Colt.”

You nearly shrank back in shock. You couldn’t believe it, and at the same time, you could. John would do anything for his boys, you knew that much. But you’d always assumed the demon came before them. Apparently, you were wrong.

You stayed silent when Azazel showed up. You stood back while the whole exchange happened. You had to really bite your tongue when John offered his own life as well. You even stayed silent when Azazel’s contemplating eyes turned to you.

“And her.” He pointed. “I want her soul too.”

“No.” John’s voice was firm, teeth clenched. “Not her. You get me and the Colt. That’s it.”

The demon chuckled. “Sorry, Johnny. No her, no deal. Dean dies.”

Your heart jumped at the words, and you finally spoke.

“It’s okay.” You said, making both of them turned to you. “Fine. Take my soul too.”

“Y/N/N, no.” John had a panicked look on his face. You smiled at him.

“It’s Dean, John.”

It was the only thing that needed to be said.

Someone was shaking you, and you looked up to have your eyes meet apple green ones. You had tears on your cheeks, more joining them as you continued crying. Dean pulled you closer to him, a hand running through your hair as he shushed you. The remnants of the memory still lingered in your head.

“It’s okay. I’m here.” He murmured, lips against your hair.

“I sold my soul for you, didn’t I?” You mumbled into his chest, sniffling.

Dean stiffened before you felt him hum in agreement.

“You did.” He muttered, still massaging your head. The headache was almost unbearable, but you refused to move from Dean’s embrace. You couldn’t believe how much this man meant to you. Slowly but surely, he was becoming your everything. “But I got you back, so it doesn’t matter.”

You nodded, groaning again. “Hurts.”

Dean moved then, pulling you with him. “C'mon, time to lay down.”

“Dean?” You mumbled when he lay you down on the motel bed. He hummed in acknowledgment, sitting on the edge of the bed and turning to you expectantly.

“I-” Your voice hitched, more tears pouring from your eyes. You struggled to tell him how you felt about him, about the whole situation. Having only bits and pieces of yourself back wasn’t easy. You were so confused. You knew you loved Dean. You knew it. But you had almost nothing to base it on. You didn’t know why you loved him, how it had progressed, what he meant to you. All you knew was that he meant a lot.

He noticed the war inside you, leaning forward to press his lips to your forehead.

“It’s okay.” He whispered. “I know.”

You wanted to cry with relief.

……………..

Cas showed up at the Bunker three days later.

He was looking at you strangely where you sat in the library, making you shift uncomfortably.

“Thank the fucking lord.” Dean muttered next to you before standing up. “Where the hell have you been? Do you know what we’ve been going through?”

Cas nodded, eyes still trained on you. Everyone was still for a moment before Cas finally spoke.

“How are you feeling?”

You raised an eyebrow at him, shrugging. “Not too good.” You replied, hands wrapping around your coffee cup. You had just had another flashback, the time when Sam got his soul back, and your head was killing you. Sam had whipped up a quick cup of coffee to calm you down.

“It’ll get worse.” Cas mumbled.

“What?” Dean asked, looking at you and then back at Cas. Cas nodded, moving closer to you and gently placing a hand on your head. Nothing happened. Your headache remained, like someone ramming your head against a wall.

“As suspected, I can’t heal you.” He continued. “It’s the spell. The nature of it.”

“What does that mean?” Sam asked. The three of you held your breath as Cas thought of how to phrase his answer. You knew, just by the look on his face, it wasn’t anything good. Your grip on the cup increased.

“You will get your memory back in bits and pieces.” He replied. “But each episode will result in a worse headache than before. Eventually, it will get so strong that you’ll have seizures, maybe even fall into a coma.”

“What are you saying?” Dean’s voice was trembling and he moved closer to you. Instinctively, you left your seat, walking to him.

“Y/N will be herself once more. But by the time she is, she will either die, or fall into a permanent insanity.”

There it was, the bombshell.

The silence that followed it was not silent at all. It was deafening, twice as loud as any words you could have said. You stood still, staring at Cas, not detecting any lie in his voice.

“No.” Dean choked out, shaking his head. “No.”

“I’m sorry, Dean.” Cas said quietly. “It’s inevitable.”

“There has to be a way.” He gasped, moving towards Cas. “Please, you have to do something.”

“The witch who cast this spell is a very powerful one. And it can’t be broken or reversed, even if you kill her.”

“She can’t die.” Dean gritted out, hands clenched into fists. You watched him as he got angrier. “There has to be a way.”

“Well, technically she doesn’t have to die.” Cas replied. “If she doesn’t get her memories back, her health won’t deteriorate.”

Dean looked at the floor. “And she’ll stay like this forever? Without memory?”

Cas nodded. “I’m sorry. You have a choice to make. If she decides to live, I’ll have to take her far away where no memory can be triggered.”

You nearly gasped when you saw that Dean was actually contemplating it, breaking you from your trance and moving towards him. Dean turned to you when you grabbed his arm. He had tears in his eyes, jaw clenched.

“Dean….” You had nothing to say.

Dean squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head.

“I can’t lose you.” He choked out. “But you’re not- you’re not even _you_.”

You knew he was right. You knew what he meant. It was either you live but nowhere near him, or he risk having the real you only to watch you die.

Dean sniffed, blinking to clear the tears from his face. He turned away from you, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

“Take her away.” He choked out.

You gasped, moving towards him again and tugging at him to make him turn to you. “No.” You whimpered, gripping his shirt. “Dean, please-”

“You’ll die.” Dean gritted out, refusing to look at you.

“Don’t I get a say in this?” You cried out, turning to Cas and Sam before looking at Dean again. “This is _my_ life, and I can do whatever I want with it. And I choose to live with you.”

Dean looked at you in shock, before he huffed out a laugh. “You don’t even know me.”

You reached up, wiping his tears before cupping his jaw. “I know you enough to know I’d rather die than live without you.”

Dean was shaking his head, but you stopped him, standing on your tiptoes to press your lips to his.

He wasted no moment in kissing back, one hand gripping the back of your head while the other pulled your body to his. Your heart leaped, the feeling making your chest constrict. You kissed him with everything in you, his lips your sole focus. He nipped at your lips, before easing his tongue slowly into your mouth. His taste was nothing less than heaven.

And then came the headache.

You collapsed on Dean as the worst headache as of yet pierced through you, as if an iron rod was shoved into your head. You cried out as your knees buckled, and then, all was black.

When someone dies, it’s said that their life flashes before their eyes. You were sure that’s what was happening to you. You didn’t know how long it took. It couldn’t have been more than a few minutes, but you re-lived your entire life in that time, played on fast forward, but every emotion, every thought process spot on. Voices and noises everywhere, laughter and cries, shouts and hoots. Every single experience, every moment of your life, all passing before you like a tidal wave.

You remembered Cas’ words then. _When all her memories come back, she either dies or goes into permanent insanity._

You couldn’t help but smile. Spending your very last breath kissing Dean was the best way to go out. A chill ran through you, goosebumps rising on your skin. You remembered everything now, all of it.

Your only regret was not telling Dean you loved him one last time.

……………..

The next thing that you remembered was laying down. Your eyes fluttered open, body pliant against a soft mattress. You groaned, feeling your head throb. You heard shuffling, and then a hand slowly pushing your hair away from your face.

“Y/N?”

You looked up to meet familiar eyes, feeling confusion wash over you. Slowly, you sat up, feeling your limbs tingle with pain. All your joints were stiff, and it took a lot of strength to lean yourself back against the headboard.

Things were flooding back to you, all that had happened. Sighing, you looked around.

You were in your room at the Bunker. Dean was on a chair next to the bed, looking at you intently.

“Am I dead?” You asked.

Dean huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “No, sweetheart. But you’ve been out for a while.”

You frowned at him, thinking back to all that had happened. “I’m not dead?”

Dean frowned, shaking his head slowly. “No, why would you say that? You just had another flashback.”

“Dean,” you breathed. “I remember everything.”

Dean’s face blanked for a moment as he left the seat and sank down next to you.

“Are- are you sure? All of it?”

You nodded, linking your little finger with his, a small gesture you’ve been doing for many years to comfort each other. He stared at your linked fingers, face collapsing into one of emotion.

“I’m sure.” You whispered. “So I don’t know why I’m not dead, or at least on the floor, foaming at the mouth.”

Dean shook his head, taking in a deep breath and giving you a smile.

He called Cas then, who couldn’t explain it, saying he’d tracked down the witch and confirm the spell she’d worked. He couldn’t understand how you were okay.

“Might have something to do with you, Dean.” He mumbled, retracting his hand after thoroughly checking your mind. “Or it may have been her fear you losing you. By the time I told you of the consequences and asked her to make a decision, she was already very attached to you. And this spell was all about emotional triggers. Maybe that did it.”

He stepped back before letting a rare smile take over his face. “Or it might just be your soul. It is, admittedly, one of the most powerful ones I’ve ever seen.”

You shrugged. “Thanks?”

Cas nodded. “That was indeed a compliment.”

You giggled a bit as he walked out of the room, leaving you with Dean again. You stayed silent for a few moments before you voiced what had been bothering you all this time.

“You really would have let me go?” You asked, referring to the conversation that had taken place in the library. Dean shrugged, sighing.

“Yeah, probably.” He smiled, rubbing his thumb over your hand. “I’ll take an amnesiac you over a dead you any day. If keeping you away from me meant you’d live, it was a no brainer.”

You smiled.

“I was sure I would figure it out.” He continued. “I’d have thought of something. Until then, I just had to keep you alive.”

You pursed your lips. “You promise you didn’t have anything to do with me not dying now?”

Dean smirked. “I swear. Cross my heart.”

You nodded, leaning forward to kiss him softly. He hummed into your lips, hand cupping your cheek, thumb stroking your skin. It was chaste and sweet, both of you dragging it as long as you could. When the need for air became too much, your lips parted, foreheads pressed together and eyes closed.

“You were willing to die than to go away.” Dean mumbled, hand still running over your cheek.

“I can’t live without you.” You replied. “Even with only half of me intact, I can’t leave. You’re stuck with me, Winchester.”

Dean huffed out a laugh, pecking your lips again. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”


End file.
